One Side of a Coin
by Skye-Chan 12
Summary: What if, after the Dobby incident before his second year, Uncle Vernon had a slightly different reaction? As a result, in Harry’s panic, he accidentally sent himself to the time of Merlin. BBC Merlin crossover pre-slash.
1. The Note to the Reader

**One Side of a Coin**

**By Skye-Chan12**

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_An Introduction to the Crossover_

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**Extended Summery**: What if, after the Dobby incident before Harry's second year, Uncle Vernon had a slightly different reaction? As a result, in Harry's panic, he accidentally sends himself to the time of Camelot. Now under the guardianship of a teenage Merlin, Harry struggles to survive in this strange time before the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. A time in our history when muggles knew about magic and persecute its all those who wielded it. BBC Merlin crossover pre-slash.

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**What is BBC Merlin? Do I have to watch Merlin to understand the crossover?**

BBC Merlin in a nutshell: The story is a take on the Smallville idea of a legendary character in his youth. BBC Merlin starts the show during the reign of King Uther, Arthur's father in a time when magic was banned under penalty of death. Here, Merlin has to keep his magical abilities secret, all the while, working as manservant and protector to Prince Arthur.

Though you might have a more complete experience if you first understand the BBC concept of the Arthur and Merlin story, I will be attempting to write with a fullness to capture the essence of the show's world without making you have to watch the show in order to understand what is going on.

This story will be through the eyes of Harry, his perspective on things. He will be having his own adventures and they will only, on occasion, intercede with Merlin's adventures. I don't plan on reiterating what happened in such and such episode to Merlin.

Being a fan of the show, I would of course advise everyone to at least watch the first episode to see if you like it. If you live in the US, Hulu. com has just put up the first season of Merlin to watch for free on their website. For those of you outside of the states, I just did a general search on youtube and saw at least two people have fully uploaded the first episode on there, so you should be able to find it there with little effort.

Merlin also has a Wikia site if you want to read up up on the Merlin world, rather then watch it. It can be found at: merlin. wikia. com/wiki/Merlin_Wiki

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**What are the slash pairings?**

This is going to be a pre-slash story. Harry is only going to be twelve and I don't like to write pedo, so, Harry will be paired in a child romance, that will evolve as he get older, with Mordred, who is also 12. Merlin, who is around 16-20, will be paired with Prince Arthur, who is 20. Though, the Merlin/Arthur pairing will be discrete and not the main part of the story. Besides a possible walking-in-on-snogging incident, there will probably be only a few references to it.

So, Merlin/Arthur and Harry/Mordred

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**Why don't you have this in the crossover section?**

I am hoping that by keeping this in the Harry Potter section, I will be able to reach a larger audience. As I write more, I might move it over to the Merlin/Harry Potter page, but for now this is where it will stay.


	2. The Fire

**One Side of a Coin**

**By Skye-Chan12**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter that is a right only claimable to Ms Rowling. If I did, I would not have the amount of college loans that I do right now and Dumbledore wouldn't have been the only HP character to come out of the closet. The idea and plot of Merlin as well as the characters are the BBC's, I'm just a wanna-be writer who has to many ideas to write and draw but never enough time.

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We fell out of Time. Through the void into nothingness. We're in some sort of place. A silent realm.

-- The Doctor (Doctor Who)

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**Warning: child abuse mentioned and described in this first chapter.**

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Harry stood bolted to the floor. His eyes couldn't leave the spot where the strange creature had vanished from. He was vaguely aware of the continued excitement as a large barn owl flew in and chased Mrs. Mason out of the house.

It wasn't until the door slammed shut behind Mr. Mason that Harry looked up and into the rapidly turning purple face of his uncle, who was furiously reading the letter in his hand. His face seemed to be swelling more and more by the second.

Harry cringed as Uncle Vernon's beady eyes darted at last, from the letter and locked on his own. "Do you know..." Vernon's words were filled with saliva and a building rage as he spoke, "what this says?"

Harry could only shake his head, he had no idea what the letter said. Though by now, he knew that it wouldn't be good for him. Vernon was starting to tremble now with outrage. He had only seen his uncle this angry a few times in his life, and the end result for Harry had never been very good.

Normally when Vernon was upset with whatever freaky thing he perceived Harry to have done, Vernon would unleash his rage in a quick explosion of words, that were often indistinguishable to the human ear, and then lock Harry in his room for an undisclosed amount of time. However, on the few occasions that Harry's freakishness had become too much for Vernon to bear, he would rage internally, allowing for the fury to build up inside of him before unleashing it in some unthinkable manor of punishment.

Last time had been well over a year ago. Harry had been locked out in the tool shed for over a month in the dead of winter. Harry had only managed to survive and keep warm by burrowing into one of the bags of potting soil that Aunt Petunia was keeping in the shed.

"Petunia" Vernon, clamped a hand onto Harry's shoulder, his fatty fingers holding on to him like a fleshy grappling hook, "Take Dudley out for some ice cream."

Petunia, whose glare had been starting to ease as she too realized what sort of mood Vernon was working himself into, looked as though she wanted to say something for a moment. However, the look past quickly and her face quickly morphed back to its normal sour expression and she quickly followed the snickering Dudley out the door and towards the car.

Vernon waited until the car's headlights had disappeared from the sight of the window, before turning his attention back to Harry. Harry tensed as he knew what was to happen next. His best chance was to run, an attempt which had only worked once before in the past, when he was seven. Then, he had managed to bolt out of the backyard, leap the neighbors fence and make it to the small wooded park where he stayed in the branches of an elm tree, out of reach, for three hours until Uncle Vernon gave up and went home, his anger spent.

His moment of truth was coming and as Vernon's grasp loosened on his shoulder, Harry jolted towards the door, slipping out of his Uncle's sweaty grasp. As he raced towards the door, his heart pumping as adrenalin pumped through his system. But he wasted precious seconds fumbling with the door handle, seconds that couldn't be spared. Vernon's meaty fist slammed into the back of his head causing his head to plow into the door. With Harry stunned by the blow, Vernon was back in control.

The following beating was not the worse that Harry had ever had, Vernon was always careful not to do any damage to the furniture when inside the house. He was thrown into a few door knobs, a few kicks to the chest and some slaps to the face. Truly, the most painful of the wounds inflicted, was the first. Harry couldn't seem to regain his senses from that first blow to the head. Vernon grabbed his arm and threw him one last time into the wall, before he halted the physical abuse.

At first, Harry could only hear his own breath, as it was torn from his body in ragged gasps. Then, he could hear Vernon's voice; "All summer, you've been threatening us with magic, only you can't do magic, your not allowed." The voice was throaty and harsh, like he had just ran around the block and back. "I won't have anymore of it."

Harry was aware of Vernon stepping over his body, heading towards the hallway, the sudden sharp pain in his hand, followed by a pop, marked Vernon's healed shoe landing on his fingers. His footsteps were heading away and Harry knew that the next part of his punishment was about to be decided.

Pulling his body up, Harry's hand reached towards the black outline that he knew was his glasses. Placing them gently on his face, Harry was then able to watch as Vernon opened the cupboard under the stairs and pulled out a trunk.

At first Harry was relieved, thinking that Vernon was only going to lock him in the cupboard. The cupboard was a punishment that he had had so often in his past, that Harry had long since stopped seeing it as a punishment at all. He had secret things hidden inside to keep himself occupied through the long waits and he had long ago mastered picking that particular lock, so food and water were easily accessible.

However, Vernon was not emptying the cupboard, like Harry had first thought. As Vernon closed and locked the door to his coveted haven, Harry realized that the trunk that he had taken out of the alcove, was his trunk... His Hogwarts trunk...

Fear now gripped him as he watched as Vernon dragged the trunk to the stairwell before climbing slowly and deliberately up the stairs. Harry felt his breathing speed up, what was Vernon doing upstairs?

The stillness was broken by the frantic hooting of Hedwig and the sounds of crashes and bangs coming from above him. Harry managed to pull himself to his feet, his head throbbing as waves of vertigo assaulted his senses. He had to know what Vernon was doing!

Harry managed to stumble to the hallway, his hands landing on the doorknob that would lead him to freedom. He knew that if he ran now, he might be able to find somewhere to hide. But no knowing what Vernon was doing upstairs in his room was too overwhelming and all he could do was grasp the front door as the seconds ticked by and his chance for freedom passed him by as Vernon thumped back down the stairs, holding a box and Hedwig's cage.

Vernon didn't look surprised to see Harry still there or even to see him standing at the front door, unmoving. But with a violent kick, Harry was sent sprawling back onto the floor, glasses askew. Harry could only watch as Vernon placed the box and Hedwig's cage on the ground as he opened the lock to Harry's trunk with a key. When it was open, Vernon dropped the angrily hooting bird inside the trunk before then moved to the box that he had brought from upstairs.

Pulling himself up onto his elbows, Harry could only look on with shock as Vernon turned the box over, poring every one of Harry's possessions from his room into his school trunk. Harry watched as his school books and homework assignments that he had forgotten to hide, slide from the box as gravity took its tole. Old clothes, his Hogwarts tie, a gryffindor banner, he even saw the bundle of letters from his friends that Dobby had left behind, they all slipped from the box and into the depths of his trunk.

As the rain of paper and objects came to an end, Harry looked up at Vernon's ash grey face, filled with determination, as he turned back his attention to Harry.

Harry tried to squirm away, but he was too slow, too groggy, to evade Vernon's sweaty grasp. He was pulled up by his ankle and dropped, headfirst, into the depths of the trunk below. Harry only caught one last look at Vernon's stony expression before the lid of the trunk was closed and Harry was left in darkness.

Fumbling around in the dark, Harry's hand searched out for anything that would end the darkness. Instead, his hands brushed up against something soft and Harry realized that it was Hedwig. Fumbling with the latch on the cage, Harry managed to swing it open and pull her limp form out. Her body was still warm and Harry was relieved to note that he could feel her chest rise and fall against his bloody fingers.

Content, for the moment, to stay still with Hedwig in his arms, Harry attempted to slow his frantic breathing so he could better hear what was going on beyond the muffled confines of his new prison. There was a small, sliver of a gap in the hinges of the trunk, which was allowing for the barest of light to slither in. Harry was only just able to make out the shadowed form of Uncle Vernon moving down the hallway and into the kitchen. Harry felt his breath settle, he was safe for now.

Pressing his head back, Harry looked about in the darkness of the trunk, the sliver of light was just enough to allow Harry to see the possessions that surrounded him. Pushing objects carefully to the side, Harry created a safe gap for himself to sit without breaking anything. Fumbling around some more, Harry managed to find his most precious possession, his wand. Grasping his it in one hand and clutching Hedwig protectively to his chest, with the other. Harry sat and waited for Vernon to return.

The bang of the back door announced his uncle's return and Harry felt as though his heart fall into his stomach. As the blur of Vernon shadow came closer and closer, Harry could feel his toes tighten in his shoes with anticipation. The sudden lurch of being dragged should have been expected. Vernon wouldn't leave the trunk and Harry in the middle of the hallway for who knows how long, but his mind was still overwhelmed with the sensation of pain and fear over the present to rationally think about the future.

Vernon dragged the trunk joltily through the kitchen and out the back door, scraping the floor and tossing aside kitchen chairs as he passed. Harry clung to Hedwig protectively as they thudded down the back steps and into the garden. Harry couldn't see anything for a moment, the lateness of the evening becoming apparent in the back of his mind.

A sudden flash of orange light blinked through the crack and Harry felt confusion start to set in. As the light flashed into sight once more, Harry suddenly became aware of a strange crackling sound and the sent of smoke. Fire. Vernon had lit a fire in the backyard. A dawning measure of horror flew through his mind before he was overwhelmed with panic. His legs lashed out and he felt his vocal cords tighten as he began to scream and shout desperate for someone to hear. Anyone.

On the outside, Vernon felt the grimness of what he was about to do. The boy's crys and banging had started only moments ago, but he knew that they were too muffled for any of the neighbors to hear, especially at this time at night when everyone would be watching the late night telly.

It wasn't his fault, he was a desperate man who had been forced into a desperate situation. He had tried to beat the magic out of the boy, starve it out of him, freeze it out of him. The only thing left was what he had been prepared to do since the day he had taken the boy into his house; burn it out of him. It was the only way to free the boy's soul from the clutches of Satan.

He and Petunia had given so much to the boy and he had never enjoyed having to cause the boy pain, it was always for his own good. And how had the brat repaid them? By lying to them, tormenting them with the threat of magic, and attacking his livelihood by sabotaging his meeting with Mr Mason.

It was all too much, he had to protect his family from the horror of what the boy was becoming, what that school was turning him into; a servant of the Devil, a damned soul meant to spend eternity in hell. If he waited any longer the boy would surely be too old, and God would never forgive the boy his follies. If he acted now, while he was still young, the purity of his age just might counter the wickedness of his magic.

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live..." Vernon murmured lightly before pulling the screaming trunk into the fire. "May God have mercy on your soul and deliver you from these flames into the lord's arms at last." With that final prayer, Vernon turned away from the flames and the muffled screams and headed back into the house. He just might be able to catch the end of the evening news (1).

Harry couldn't breath, smoke was seeping rapidly through the crack in the trunk making his lungs burn and his eyes water. The heat seemed all consuming, surrounding him, burning him up from the inside. He took several ragged breaths, his hand that was clutching his wand gave several more futile bangs on the lid of the trunk before it collapsed to his chest.

He wished that his magic would rise to his defense like it had so many times in the past when he was scared. But nothing was happening. He didn't know any spells to whisk him away from the burning and the pain, or even any to release him from his prison. He was trapped and he was going to die.

Curling around Hedwig, Harry closed his eyes and coughed harshly into the smoke filled chest. "Help..." he cried feebly, his mind demanded that he be somewhere else somewhere safe, somewhere protected. His mind flew, but he realized with the sadness and suddenness of a dyeing man, that he had never truly felt safe anywhere, not even Hogwarts.

It was in that moment, that he realized that he didn't want to be anywhere, he wanted to be nowhere. The thought didn't make any sense, but to the oxygen deprived boy, nowhere was someplace that was safe and away from everything and that was where he wanted to be.

Unbeknownst to Harry, in order for a wizard to travel from one location to another, instantaneously, he must first have a destination in mind, as well as the determination to be in that location. The moment his mind at settled that the safest place for him to be was nowhere, rather then 'anywhere' (It is impossible to apparate to 'anywhere'. If someone were to theoretically apparate themselves anywhere, they would likely end up separated into thousands of molecules spread all over the world).

However, there is such a location as 'nowhere', and it was very much like what Harry's oxygen deprived mind was imagining. Nowhere is located in between the in between, the void in space. The Howling (2). And with Harry's magic at last able to set on a destination, it was then able to take Harry's frantic and deliberate, determination and desperation and transport him... To Nowhere.

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**Additional Notes**:

(1) I feel that it is important to explain Vernon's seeming religious fanaticism. Vernon is not an extremest christian. He is a man who is being ruled by his fear and bigotry and using selected christian doctrine to rationalize his actions and fears. I don't think that a man who is so completely devoted to his own son, could truly be a sadist or a psychopath like he is depicted in most stories. So he must have to rationalize beating and torturing a child by convincing himself that he was doing it for Harry's own good. He was trying to keep Harry from being a 'freak', Which to his small mind, could only mean evil and bad things. If you have seen the BBC Merlin tv show, think of him as having a similar mentality to King Uther.

(2) The Void/the Howling/Nowhere... I am going off of a Doctor Who concept and adapting it do my own uses. The void is what resides between universes, the padding between the wall if you will. There is no space, time, up or down in the Void. There is only vastness of nothing. My idea is that when a wizard apparates, they are actually transporting themselves into the Void and then back out in a different location, in less then a second. The Void is the nowhere place, the Howling, Hell, it has been known to drive people insane by its sheer nothingness alone. Time doesn't exist, you don't feel hunger or thirst and exhaustion. Everything just _is_.

End Chapter One


	3. The Void

**One Side of a Coin**

**By Skye-Chan12**

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter that is a right only claimable to Ms Rowling. If I did, I would not have the amount of college loans that I do right now and Dumbledore wouldn't have been the only HP character to come out of the closet. The idea and plot of Merlin as well as the characters are the BBC's, I'm just a wanna-be writer who has to many ideas to write and draw but never enough time.

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Rose was nowhere. All around was whiteness. She could see Vanessa there too, but the blankness made distances deceptive. She might have been ten yards or ten miles away. Struggling with vertigo, Rose tried to take a step towards were Vanessa appeared to be. Her head spinning, she couldn't work out whether she had actually moved or not. Eventually she was forced to stop and rest. She risked sitting down on the nothingness and then lying down. She couldn't say it was comfortable or uncomfortable, it was just... Nothing. There was no sensation of a surface underneath her. Nothing solid, but she didn't feel like she was floating either.

-- Doctor Who: The Stone Rose.

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Harry wasn't aware of the magic that was building up around him and he was only halfway aware of a sudden pain that that came. It felt as though the heat and the walls and the flames were all pressed close

Harry wasn't aware of the magic that was building up around him and he was only halfway aware of a sudden pain that that came. It felt as though the heat and the walls and the flames were all pressed close to his body and the sensation of being squished overwhelmed him. He felt his breath and the smoke were being sucked out and he was only dimly aware of the fact that the roar of the flames had disappeared, before everything went black.

When he awoke, Hedwig was awake and pulling on his tangled hair in an attempt to rouse him. He tried to murmured softly to her, only to have the sound a strange husky sound depart from his lips. His throat burned at the use and Harry began to cough violently.

Hedwig griped his leg tightly in surprise, her claws digging through the worn fabric of his denims to pierce into his skin. Harry muffled his coughs and willed himself to calm his breathing and inhale slowly. A strange wheeze accompanied his every breath, but it seemed to calm his coughing, which was enough to make Hedwig loosen her grip on his thigh.

Straightening up, Harry pulled himself into a sitting position. The smoke and flames where gone, Harry's burning lungs, bloodshot eyes and the charred corners of his trunk were the only evidence that there ever was a fire. He couldn't hear anything beyond Hedwig's gentle cooing and his own rasping breaths.

Light from the outside poured through the splinter between the hinges as well as a new hole which had been burned away in the far lefthand corner of the trunk. Pushing papers and books to the side, Harry crawled over and peered through the penny sized hole. White was all that he could see. It took him a moment longer to realize that he was actually peering though a hole that was on the bottom of his trunk, meaning he should only be able to see what the trunk was resting on. Tentatively, Harry poked his finger through the hole and waved it about. Nothing, he must be suspended in the air. Harry thought, vaguely. But that didn't make sense! Why would Uncle Vernon suspend him in a trunk, in a white room?

Peeking through the hole again in hopes of seeing something more to distinguish where he was, only Harry was only able to see more and more white. He couldn't even tell which direction the light was coming from, the whiteness seemed to be illuminating the trunk in every direction. It didn't make sense! Where was he? Harry spent a few more panicked moments banging on the lid of the trunk in hopes of someone hearing or perhaps being able to burst through the lid, but his attempts only seemed to only upset Hedwig and brought him no closer to freedom.

If he was suspended, then perhaps he could swing the trunk lose from its confines. Harry tried to create momentum by placing both hands on either side of the trunk and pushing in time. This did nothing though. He couldn't feel any movement of any kind. Thou, when he thought on the idea for a second more, he realized that if he couldn't tell where the floor was, then perhaps he shouldn't be trying to get the trunk to fall... He seemed to be in a bad enough situation, no sense making it worse by falling twenty feet and breaking a leg in addition to his other injuries.

Leaning back down to the hole, Harry called out "Hello? Uncle Vernon! Aunt Petunia!" the sound of his voice didn't echo, it seemed to fall from his lips like led. Like shouting in water...

Where was he? Harry started to cry. He was alone. Pulling a slightly unwilling Hedwig to his chest, Harry broke out into painful sobs.

His body was bruised and sore, his left eye had completely swollen shut and his right hand's fingers were twice their normal size, and his pinky was bent at an awkward angle making it completely unusable and painful to move. His chest hurt. His throat hurt... Everything hurt.

He needed help... His sobbing brought on a new wave of coughing, causing Harry to release the frantic snowy owl and keel over in pain. He rested his head on the cool pages of an open book. As his coughing subsided, Harry lay content for the moment in his fetal position.

Time past, though he wasn't sure how much. He wasn't hungry or tired, he just... Was... This had to be a magic place, he decided after a while. His fingers were ruffling through the pages of his potion text. What had happened? Had his magic brought him here? The details of what had happened were foggy. The beating, the trunk, the fire, then here.

But where was here? It was somewhere white... And floating... And... Safe... The word echoed loudly to his ears as he spoke his thoughts to his uncomprehending familiar. He was safe, where ever he was. His wounds, while not healing, didn't seem to be getting any worse. He didn't feel thirsty or tired even though he had been there for what felt like days.

Harry felt a gnawing sense in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn't hunger. What if he was stuck here forever?! Unable to leave his trunk, unable to heal, unable to die... He felt his breath start to quicken as his heart seemed to be doing jumping jacks in his chest.

Sitting up, Harry forced himself to take several deep, raspy breaths, forcing himself to calm down. It his magic had gotten him here, then it could take him away from here too. He just needed to think about this...

If last time, he had only wished himself safe, and ended up in the strange place. Perhaps, then, he could wished to go somewhere specific or maybe to someone who could help him. He had to be careful... He didn't want to accidentally send himself somewhere worse, like back to Privet Drive and the flames.

Taking a slow raspy breath, Harry pulled out one of his books. He was vaguely aware of it being a history of magic text as he flipped to a random page with a picture. The caption read "Ealdor" in a large bold print at the bottom. Harry tried to squint to read the fine print underneath the title, but gave up quickly.

The picture was of a village, reminiscent of Hogsmeade. Wizards and witches were wandering the town and teens on broomsticks could be seen playing a game of quidditch in the backdrop. It looked like a wizard tourist destination...

Taking another raspy breath, Harry focused intently on the picture, taking in all of the details. He was going to be as specific as possible. For a moment he thought about going to Hogwarts... But, where teachers even there over the summers? Would the wards of the school keep him from even getting close enough to anyone who could help him. Not wanting to take the chance he focused back on the picture, He needed someone with magic, someone who could help him, and Ealdor was as good a place as any.

Pushing all other thoughts from his mind, Harry started to chant, "I need someone magic who can help me, who lives in Ealdor. Take me to someone with magic who can help me who lives in Ealdor."

And as Harry disappeared from the white realm, the nowhere place, nothing remained to mark his stay. As if he were never there, or only there for an instant... Or perhaps eternity... Silence and nothingness remained as it had always been.

Unfortunately, Harry hadn't been focusing on what time he wanted to arrive in. Though, to give the boy some credit, had he been anywhere on earth, he would have arrived safely and quickly in the magical tourist town of Ealdor, the semi-recognized location of the birthplace of the Merlin the Great, the founder of modern magic.

But Harry was not on earth, was he? He was in the Void (though he didn't know it). And while journeys in time without the aid of an enchanted device should have been impossible... In the Void, there is no up or down, no space and no time.

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Harry held tight to his book and wand as the sensation of being squeezed into a much smaller space pulled everything in tightly around him. The feeling lasted only a moment, like a sudden intake of breath, before Harry managed to exhale and everything went back to the way it was.

Hedwig was beside herself as she attempted to fly out of the trunk, desperately flapping her wings. Her feathers bashed against Harry's face, catching him in his good eye. Reaching out blindly, Harry managed to get a hold of her chest and pull her in close to his torso.

"It's alright, it's alright..." His voice rasped the mantra as calmly as he could, as he tucked her struggling wings back to her sides. He held her like that for a long time, allowing his own racing heart to calm. Reassured by the single fact that they were both still alive.

Harry looked to the corner of the trunk, to his spy hole and let out a raspy laugh of joy at the sight of dark brown dirt that surrounded and filled the hole. He dug into the earth and pulled out a clump and offered it to Hedwig in assurance that things were going to get better.

Looking through the sliver at the hinges of the trunk Harry attempted to look around at his surroundings. He could see dark, unmoving shapes that he assumed to be trees and the glimmer of golden light that he knew to be the sun. Relief flooded his system for the first time and Harry allowed himself to rest against the wall of the trunk. Hedwig scuttled about the floor of the trunk, still irritated at being confined but she settled down once Harry found her bag of owl treats.

"We'll be out of here soon." Harry rasped as he offered her another treat. He was quickly losing his strength, his weariness no longer kept at bay by the strange white place. Slumping against the side of the trunk, Harry closed his eye, and was instantly asleep.

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By the time Harry awoke, the golden light was all but gone. He looked about himself blearily, startled into awareness by Hedwig's rise in activity. She was climbing up and down his leg peering wearily through the crack in the trunk and hooting softly.

Harry had hoped that he would have been awakened by someone who had come to rescue him. The relief that he had felt earlier was now being pushed aside by fear as he once again started to panic. Why hadn't anyone seen the trunk? Where was he? Had he not arrived in the right place?

Harry's heart leaped into his throat as he heard what must have been making Hedwig upset... A chorus of howls twanged through the evening air... And they sounded very, very close.

Swallowing thickly, Harry slid himself on to his back and tried once again to bash though the top of the trunk. When that didn't work he set to work kicking desperately at the right side of the trunk, then the left, then the front and finally the back. The yips and howls were getting closer and closer.

Harry scuffled to the corner of the trunk, feeling at least hopeful that if he couldn't bust through the walls of the trunk, then the wolves probably wouldn't be able to. Helplessness and fear set in as Harry clung to himself desperately wishing for someone to come and save him.

Suddenly, the howling ceased. It was as though someone had pushed stop on a tape player. There silence lasted for a moment longer only to be broken by huge bang, like the sound of a thunder clap, followed by the return of yelping, only now it was fading away. Was it a gun? A spell? He didn't know.

A new sound came to his ears, it was the sound of something crushing through the underbrush. Moving branches and snapping twigs, and the sounds were coming closer. His throat tightened as he tried to call out, but only a squeaking sound to pass through his teeth.

"_Gretan_!" Harry heard a voice, definitely male, call out of the darkness.

"Yes!" Harry tried to shout back, though it was hardly more then a wisper. Desperate to be heard, Harry opened his mouth and screamed, "heeeeelllllp" his throat felt like sandpaper but he was encouraged by the resumed sound of footsteps, now quicker then before.

"_hwær sie ge_?!" The voice called out, this time much, much closer.

Harry took another breath and managed to make another lacerating scream, he quickly resumed pounding with his fists against the lid of the trunk, anything to make that person find him. The intensity of the moment brought Hedwig into a frenzy as well, flapping her wings against both Harry and the trunk, she let out a fierce screech.

The steps were closer and closer, Harry could feel the pounding of the earth as the steps rushed towards him. And then he was there! "Please! Help me!" Harry rasped his hand banging softly on the lid.

"_Her ic! Her ic_!" Harry could hear the lock being fumbled with and tugged on.

"Please..." Harry was sobbing again. He was so weak, so tired of this trunk, and so tired of... Everything.

Harry could hear the man saying something through the trunk, but he couldn't understand it... "please." he sobbed, "please."

There was a moment of silence and Harry thought that the man had given up. He hiccuped and tried to catch his breath, which was coming out in short gasps. "Pu-lese..." he gasped out. His head resting on the wall of the trunk listening desperately.

/click/

The sound of the lock releasing. Harry peered up through a blurry eye as the lid was opened at last.

"_Sie ge hælu_?" While Harry still couldn't understand the language, the look of concern that marred the dark haired youth's face was universal. Arms reached down and lifted him up, Harry's arms automatically wrapped around the strangers neck.

"_Sie willa ge hælu, oon_." the man murmured soothingly, his hand sliding down Harry's back reassuringly. "_Sie willa ge hælu, oon_."

With a quick flap, Hedwig was in the air and circling around her master and this stranger.

"_Hulic_!" the man cried softly in surprise, tightening his grip on Harry as he watched Hedwig circle.

Resting his head tiredly on the strangers shoulder, Harry pulled out his other arm, "Hedwig." he rasped softly.

The stranger tried to duck away as Hedwig floated down, but she made a successful landing onto Harry's shoulder. Wincing slightly as her talons took grip.

The man eyed Hedwig wearily, prompting Harry to gesture and say, "Hedwig."

The man pointed at the snowy owl and repeated, "Hedwig." Harry nodded in affirmation, hoping the the gesture would translate.

"Myrlain" he gestured to himself and then pointed to Harry.

"Harry." he answered the unspoken question softly. His eye drooping shut as he allowed himself to relax into the man's embrace.

"Thankyou." he murmured softly, under his breath, as he drifted off to sleep.

Leaving his rescuer to stare in confusion from the boy in his arms, to the white snowy owl glaring at him with glowing yellow eyes (with a beak that was too close for comfort to his fleshy face), and then to the large travel trunk that was filled with books, clothes and papers, in the middle of the forest.

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Translations:

_Gretan_! Hello!

_hwær sie ge_? Where are you?

_Her ic_! I'm here!

_Sie ge hælu_. Are you alright?

_Sie willa ge hælu, oon_. You will be alright, now.

_Hulic_... What the...

AN: The words that I'm using for Old English, are really Old English words. However, I'm making everything else up.

PS. If you know Old English and want to accurately translate my sentences for me, then that would rock.

End Chapter Two


	4. The Torch

**One Side of a Coin**

**By Skye-Chan12**

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter that is a right only claimable to Ms Rowling. If I did, I would not have the amount of college loans that I do right now and Dumbledore wouldn't have been the only HP character to come out of the closet. The idea and plot of Merlin as well as the characters are the BBC's, I'm just a wanna-be writer who has to many ideas to write and draw but never enough time.

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Sir Bedevere: What makes you think she's a witch?

Peasant: Well, she turned me into a newt!

Sir Bedevere: A newt?

Peasant: ... I got better.

-- Monty Python and the Holy Grail

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Harry was weird when it came to sleeping. When he was younger, he could pass off the vivid dreams as being just that, dreams. He only, really, became aware of the fact that he was dreaming about things that were actually happening around him, when he got to Hogwarts and started to share a room with the rest of the Gryffindor boys.

It didn't happen every night and he didn't wake up remembering very much of what had happened. The memories of these dreams would only really come to him during odd times and about irrelevant things, much the sense of deja vu. He would remember hanging out with people around the castle who he had never actually met, or knowing about a secret passage in a corridor that he had never been down before. He would just passed it off as coincidence or lucky guesses.

He finally had to acknowledged that something was really happening to him when he was having these vivid dreams, after the twins assaulted him for warning Ron about a prank they were going to play on him at breakfast. A prank that they had apparently, only come up with the night before while under secrecy charms and silencing spells in the confines of the third year boy's dorm room.

Confused and disturbed, Harry went to Hermione. A few carefully worded questions brought on an hour long lecture about out of body experiences, astral projection and buddhist monks. For the most part, he was only able to translate from Hermione-speak that what was going on wasn't dangerous and that, if he could control it, he would be able to do a lot of cool things.

Anyway, after Harry passed out in Myrlain's arms, he could feel himself slip into the strange, dream like state. Hermione had said the person in this state was actually in an astral body, but it had never seemed like a body though... He was just, sort of, there. A blob of sight and hearing that seemed to float around. His 'astral body' would float around, looking for someone doing something interesting and then spend the night following/listening/watching them. He couldn't remember ever having any control over where 'he' went, though, like Hermione seemed to imply.

Here and now, in this strange new place, his 'projection' seemed content to stay close to his body. Perhaps he was the most interesting thing that night. He 'watched' as the skinny youth gently bent down and closed the trunk, leaving it behind, as he trudged back through the woods back the way he came.

He weaved his way through the overgrowth. Taking care to keep Harry's head from slipping from its perch on his shoulder. There were several times when it looked like Myrlain was going to lose it and tumble on to the forest floor, but he always managed to right himself before he spilled and managed to keep Harry's body safe from harm (though, Hedwig had quickly left her perch on Harry's shoulder after the first stumble).

Harry watched as the forest separated, giving way to a dirt path that heading down a slope. Myrlain slid down the embankment, pausing for a moment to take a little leap, using the momentum to pull Harry's limp form from his hip, to his chest. Now, both hands were wrapped securely around Harry's body, hugging him close to his thin frame.

In the distance, somewhere far behind them, Harry could hear the chorus of wolves call out to the night sky. They walked slowly down the path, the tree's starting to thin on either side of them. As they reached the crest of the sloping path, he was could then see a hollowed out space in the forest. Fields of green marked by patterns of irrigation channels. Towards the middle of the cleared sward, illuminated by an orange glow, was a congregation of houses.

Harry awoke slowly, only vaguely aware of the distance traveled and the sights passed. He opened his one eye slowly, grateful that despite all that he had been though, his glasses had remained relatively undamaged and on his face. Looking out he could see the thinning trees a edge of the forest that lay in their wake, lighted by an orangish glow of the town that he knew they were walking towards, despite having not seen it with his actual eyes.

"Myrlain!" Harry flinched at the sudden and loud noise.

Peering over his shoulder towards where the shout had come from, Harry watched as a young sandy haired youth trotted over to him and his rescuer.

The two immediately started to talk animatedly with each other. The stranger with questions and Myrlain's hesitant responses. However, Harry couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the nonsensical words. At that moment, his full attention was on the flaming torch in the light haired youths hands. His arms clung to Myrlain's neck tightly, causing his champion to pause in his conversation with his friend.

"Harry?" Myrlain asked questioningly, rocking Harry gently in an attempt to pull him from his trance.

Hedwig, who had been observing her master, felt her master's panic and fear. Her master had never been one to fear strangers, but the burning light that the stranger was carrying was making her feathers stand on edge; her instinct's screaming 'danger!'. With her enemy in sight, Hedwig released her perch and dived towards the youth, screeching fiercely.

Both Myrlain and his companion were caught by surprise at the sudden appearance of the snowy owl and by her seemingly unprovoked attack. Myrlain, crouched down, a protective hand covering Harry's head defensively.

The surprised stranger waved his torch franticly in an attempt to ward of Hedwig's fierce talons, but the snowy owl was not one to be deterred. Her claws out stretched, the youth flinched away, giving her the chance to wrap her talons around the torch's wooden length and rip it from the youth's grasp.

Teetering in her flight, Hedwig only managed to make it a few feet until she was forced to land. Gathering her wits quickly, she took her place between the stranger and the flame, faithfully guarding the flame, protecting Harry from that which had almost killed him and her as well.

Harry was astonished by her actions. She had never acted like this before! She hadn't even been awake during Uncle Vernon's final solution. Her large yellow eyes glowed fiercely in the dark and stared up at Harry. She seemed almost... Prideful... Her feathers puffing out with pleasure at her own heroics, her eyes staring unwaveringly up at Harry.

Harry smiled despite himself and gently patted the ground beside him, "Good girl, Hedwig."

By then the flame on the torch was all but embers, and Hedwig walked/skipped to Harry's side, receiving a gentle pat for her bravery. Feeling a gentle tug on his back, Harry looked to Myrlain, who was still kneeling beside him, his hand splayed across his back in reassurance and protection.

"_Sie ge hælu_, Harry?" Myrlain's voice was questioning, looking from Hedwig to the cooling torch and back to Harry.

The question in his tone was unmistakable, though Harry was left with no reasonable way to explain what had happened and why. Instead, he just raised a bloody and swollen finger, pointing at the now flameless torch and shaking his head.

Myrlain looked to comprehend the action and its meaning, but the question seemed to remain. The dark haired youth seemed to be content to let it go, answers would have to come at a much later date. And definitely not tonight.

Rising to his feet, Myrlain held out a hand. Harry took a moment to give Hedwig one last pat and allow her to climb up his arm and use his shoulder as a perch once more, before he held his hand up and took Myrlain's hand with his own. He allowed himself to be led down the street of the small village, focusing his attention instead on the mud and stone buildings that they were slowly approaching.

Beside him, the brunet stranger resumed his conversation with Myrlain, though the tone was no longer carried the same light tone as when it had started. Myrlain seemed to be getting more and more flustered with every word from his friend's mouth. As he reached his zenith, Myrlain stopped abruptly, his eyes directed towards the heavens as if asking for strength, before he cut his friend off mid rant.

"Harry." Harry to perk up at his name, though Myrlain's tone was intense and bordering on anger "_His nama is Harry_."

"_Harry, his namum Will_." Myrlain said, his eyes locked on Harry's to make sure the boy knew he was talking to him. Myrlain gestured to the man beside him, "Will" Harry nodded slowly in comprehension.

"_Will, Cweþan Gretan_." Myrlain's eyes were boring into Will's, his tone pushy and demanding.

There was a second of silence and Harry, who was still unsure as to what was going on, looked up at Will, who seemed to be gritting his teeth,

"_Gretan, Harry._" He spoke at last.

Harry squinted in concentration, thinking he now understood what the word meant. Hesitantly he returned the greeting; "Gree-tahn, Will?"

Myrlain face broak into a wide smile, making Harry bark out a hoarse laugh. The laugh was painful, and Harry found himself attempting to choke a cough only to make it worse. Both Will and Myrlain hovered in concern, Myrlain's hand once again rubbing soothing circles on his back.

He couldn't get himself to stop coughing. His lungs were aching. He kept trying to talk, to say something, but every time he started, he would burst into another fit of deep, raspy coughs. He couldn't breath, every gasp of breath was forced back out of his body as he shook with the uncontrollable hacking. Hedwig was starting to go crazy again, bobbing her head, hopping back and forth, and making distressed hooting cries.

Harry pulled desperately at his t-shirt, the neck of the shirt felt as though it was choking him. Wheezing desperately for air, his coughing quelled momentarily, allowing him to focus on his dark haired savior. 'Help help help help choking help help fire help burned help help help' his mind was in a furry, his survival instincts were starting to kick in and with them, his magic.

Harry's eyes were starting to lose their focus, but he the visible shock and surprise that splatted across Myrlain's concerned face. The youth said something aloud, though the syllables were barely audible to Harry's ears, Will looked from Harry to Myrlain, his lips moving in response. Myrlain seemed to ignore whatever Will had said, his brow furrowing with concentration as he focused intently on Harry.

'Harry? Was that you?' the voice echoed through Harry's head and he knew immediately that it was Myrlain.

'Yes! Help! Help! Can't breath! The fire! It hurts' Harry thought back desperately, the taste of copper was becoming stronger as his body alternated between short raspy breaths and deep, husky coughs.

'Just hold on!' Myrlain pulled Harry into his arms and ran through the village.

Harry, feeling lightheaded, closed his eyes as tightly as he could. He could hear the wind whistle past his ears, sounding as though he was traveling through a tunnel. Myrlain would help, he was going to be ok. Myrlain would save him.

They slowed and Harry squinted through his good eye at the door they were nearing. Myrlain didn't waist time knocking, he lifted the handle of the door knob and pressing into the dimly lit room. Shouting out as soon as he entered.

A woman was standing in the corner of the small hut, a dish in her hand caught in mid-wash. Myrlain said something to her, causing her to spring into action, immediately dropping the dish and calling out orders to Myrlain.

'This is my mother,' Myrlain's thoughts reverberated through his oxygen deprived mind as he hurriedly set Harry on a stiff pile of bound straw and blankets which acted as a small bed, 'we're going to take care of you, don't worry. Everything is going to be alright.'

The dark haired woman appeared over Myrlain, her voice was gentle and calm as she spoke. Harry couldn't tell if she was talking to him or Myrlain and was relieved when he heard Myrlain's voice in his head once again to explain what was going on.

'We need to take off your shirt,' his voice was soothing and reassuring, mirroring Myrlain's gentle pull on his hand, which was still pulling at the neck of his t-shit. His glasses were pulled off as well, hurriedly tossed aside in an effort to make the shirt slide off easier.

When the shirt was off, Myrlain's let out a hiss at the visible bruising that marred Harry's skin. The woman, however, didn't even pause. Handing several cool wet rags to Myrlain, she quickly gave instruction as to their purpose and gesturing with a finger to Harry's eyes, forehead and neck.

The woman rushed out of sight and returned quickly with a wooden bucket and dipper. She gently raising Harry's head off the bed pressed the ladle against his chapped lips. The chilled water was like a soothing balm as it trickled down his throat. His breath was still shallow and he was having difficulty swallowing, but the habitual coughing had ceased for the moment.

Myrlain gently dabbed his feverish skin with the cool rags, laying one across his forehead and the other he brushed across his face and neck.

'you were in a fire.' it was more of a statement then a question, but Harry answered back anyways.

'yes.' Harry's eyes traveled lethargically upwards and stared blankly at the blurry shapes and colors that made up the features Myrlain's face without his glasses.

'Are you hurt anywhere else?' Harry could feel his gaze drift as he struggled to stay awake to answer Myrlain's questions.

'My hand... Head... And my eye' his thoughts were coming to him slowly now and Harry could no longer hold on. His eyes drifted shut and his body was allowed to rest at last.

OOooOOOoooOOOooOO

Translations:

_Sie ge hælu, Harry_? Are you alright, Harry?

_His nama is Harry. _His name is Harry.

_Harry, his namum Will. _Harry, this is Will.

_Will, Cweþan Gretan. _Will, say hello.

_Gretan, Harry. _Hello, Harry.

End Chapter Three


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